


Times

by gaylore



Series: This Something [5]
Category: Naruto
Genre: And Naruto's drunk for most of it hey, Angst, At least you'll be happy that there is an update, Big ol pile of angst, I forgot what few tagging skills I had to start with, I haven't done this in so long I'm so sorry, I just want to make you all happy with an update, I made myself sad with what I've done so, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 06:02:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12248439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaylore/pseuds/gaylore
Summary: Naruto has to get out of Konoha, and it's not long before Gaara finds him somewhere he's not supposed to be with something he is not supposed to drink. Gaara avoids getting puked on. He can't avoid all the other problems they have.An eight-week hiatus and now I'm even worse at both tagging and summaries, what has become of me.





	Times

Naruto can’t hold his drink, and Gaara is always the one to deal with the consequences.

They’re no strangers to alcohol, whether as individuals or as a— _something_. Their first kiss tasted of ramen and rice wine. Lately, Gaara hasn’t been able to stop himself from wondering if that’s the only reason this started, if just forgetting an invitation from half a decade back would have saved them all this pain.

It’s a sensible explanation. Maybe Naruto associates him with glorious reminiscing over a ceramic cup. Maybe it’s all a product of classical conditioning. Gaara knows how that works. Gaze into your fellow veteran’s eyes before each sip enough times, and soon enough, you don’t even need to wet your throat to feel giddy.

And _maybe_ this connection is stronger than a ‘maybe.’ Historically, it’s always the drunk Naruto who wants Gaara the most.

But Gaara will cry about his conclusions later. He has an explanation (and possibly a neck) to wring.

“Can’t you get stupid drunk in your own bar?”

Naruto’s head whips around. He sits up straight on the stool and tries to look dignified, but there are far too many liquids on his person for that to be successful: an amber beer stain on his shirt, sweat flattening his hair, and something clear on his cheeks. (Gaara will call it vodka until proven tears.)

“I can’t be in Konoha right now.” Raw, scraped, burned. Naruto’s not the type to do shots.

Oh, _no_.

“Don’t tell me.”

“Gaara, we hafta—”

“ _Don’t_ tell me.”

He relies on the length of time it will take for Naruto to puzzle out how literal he’s being. Instead of giving the answer (very), Gaara grabs him by the elbow and yanks him upright.

“Did you pay yet?” he demands. It is an effort to keep pitch and volume down, to contain the tone he usually reserves for war. He can’t have a ringing military order snapping the mostly-veteran population of this bar to attention.

“Not the last bottle,” Naruto admits, stunned and blinking.

“I’ll cover it. In the morning. We’re leaving, _now_.”

“Don’t you need something first?”

“I have some at home. You’re getting out of here before someone sober realizes that the Hokage isn’t always in orange.”

It’s not until Gaara has dragged him halfway home that the possibility of an X-rated misinterpretation on Naruto’s part crosses his mind.

He’ll shovel that bullshit off the bridge when he comes to it, or whatever the phrase.

***

Once he’s poured the man into a kitchen chair, Gaara tries to take Naruto’s shirt off in the least sexy way possible. It helps to spend the whole time talking about all of the products that could be used to get the beer out.

“We’ll soak this, clean the stain with bar soap, let it soak some more, then bleach it in the washer. How does that sound?”

As he pulls at the hem, he keeps his eyes trained on Naruto’s shoulder. Lean muscle and elegant bone, which isn’t helpful at all, but it’s safer than neck or pec or navel.

He can refuse to look, but there’s no way to avoid touch. Knuckles brush upward over clammy skin, and for a moment he’s thankful that Naruto’s so sweaty. Humans recoil from moisture. (Just _the word_ and his libido has crawled into a hole to die.)

Then he hates himself again. Maybe if he stopped thinking about how much he doesn’t want to think about sex, this would be easier and he would be a better nurse.

“It _sounds_ like you’re trying to do anything but let me talk.”

The shirt just got stuck on his head, and Gaara isn’t hurrying to get rid of the muffling cotton, so he supposes he can’t dispute that.

“Just—wait for me to lay it out in the tub.”

Gaara takes the shirt and leaves him. In the bathroom, with the door shut, he takes all the time he can. But if his hands lie limp under the warming tap for much longer, they’ll be scalded enough for Naruto to worry.

He dries his hands on the outside of the shower curtain and returns.

“If you’re going to talk, I’m going to take my shoes off.”

“Because I’ll puke on them?”

“Mostly because I had a seventy-kilogram weight on my shoulder that made it impossible to sit down at the door, but yours, too.” He pulls out another chair and slides them off. “Also, if you vomit on my bare feet, I will kick you with both of them right before becoming a double amputee.”

“That’s excessive. And _maybe_ a little self-destructive.”

“They don’t teach irony in Konoha, do they?”

Naruto shows him two fingers that prove they did teach rude gestures.

“If you still have those fine motor skills, I’m sure you can speak.”

Naruto’s hands drop onto his knees, so apparently he’s trying to flip off Gaara’s tatami mats. Or maybe his own face—he’s gazing at the floor, mourning, hesitating, blanching, throat convulsing.

Gaara tucks his feet under the seat of his chair, just in case, but he knows this is worse. There’s no way to clean up the mess Naruto is about to explode with.

“Hinata knows.”

Quiet like the hangover’s already hit him, but he still makes an effort to turn his face up. He’s trying to look Gaara in the eyes, but Gaara refuses.

Now it’s his turn. He begs the forgiveness of the ceiling, and the floor, and the walls. In silence.

“Look at me. Open your mouth. Give me something.”

Absolutely not. On all three counts.

“Did I not say it? I can’t hear myself talk. My ears are ringing. Maybe I just said it in my head.” He clears his throat for a declaration. “ _Hinata_ —”

“I heard you the first time.” He can’t hear it again. Not out of Uzumaki Naruto’s mouth.

“So yell at me!”

“Yell at yourself.”

“Don’t you think I’ve already done that?”

“I’m not helping.”

Gaara cannot be in this room, where things start and end and end again. He’s going to vomit. He’s not even drunk. He wishes he was drunk.

He reaches up and squeezes his temples to force a headache that will match Naruto’s. If that doesn’t work, he’s going to bang his forehead on the counter.

Pain always distracts him.

“Gaara, I need to tell you what happened.”

“I need a drink.”

“Why do you think I’m here? But we need to do this first.”

“Before I’m dead, right?”

“What? Who’s dying?”

“Once the villages get hold of this, I’m going to die. They’ll do it or I will.”

“No, fuck, no, that’s what I’m trying to tell you! She doesn’t know.”

“Okay. I’m having an anxiety attack for nothing.”

If he puts his head between his knees, he’ll have an excuse not to look at Naruto. That’s enough reason.

“I _mean_ -! She doesn’t know it’s you.”

“Explain that.”

Gaara will choke on the rest. He can’t get it out.

Naruto doesn’t make him. His voice somehow cuts in through the layers of arm and leg.

“I was writing to you. She saw the draft. I almost said I was writing slashfic of the pervy sage’s books or something, but I just . . . I can’t lie to her.”

Gaara doesn’t blame him. He knows about Hyuga Hinata. No one could lie to that woman and have a heart.

Uzumaki Naruto has too much.

“And I was trying to be all—ya know, mysterious and seductive, so it’s just ‘me’ talking to ‘you’ the whole time. So she knows that I was writing—based on true events. And that it’s a guy. That’s all.”

With the way his voice breaks, it couldn’t be.

“Don’t lie.” It’s already bad enough.

“She left.”

“How bad?”

“She won’t tell.”

“That’s worse.”

Naruto doesn’t disagree.

***

They’re in bed. No one bothered to make it, or even pull the covers back. Naruto wobbled, Gaara staggered, but they both made it. He’s not sure what Naruto’s doing, but it’s as far away as the slender mattress will allow. Gaara keeps his arms crossed over his ribcage, bare now, still shuddering up and down with anxious breath.

No one looks.

“Do you need to talk more?”

In the instant after he speaks, Gaara isn’t sure what he hates about himself the most. That he didn’t think to ask earlier, that he’s asking now, that he’s in a place where anyone has to ask at all.

“That’s not what I need.”

Naruto hasn’t touched him tonight. He’s been either ragdoll or brick wall since the bar.

But there is a hand on Gaara’s thigh. Thumb under the hem of his boxers, fingers fanning out towards his knee. It’s warm, and it’s there, and it’s _Naruto,_ and that’s worse.

“No.”

“This is the last time.”

“Last time was the last time.”

“I tied you up last time. I teased you last time. I don’t want that to be it. You know?”

He’s being careful. Enunciating, no skipping over and slurring together.

“I know that we can’t do this. I can’t do this.”

“I want to make you feel better.”

“You can’t. I can’t.”

If Naruto goes any higher, Gaara is going to cry.

“Why not?”

Why did he have to ask?

“You only want me because you can’t have her.”

“That’s not true!”

“You feel guilty. You want a _last time_ so you can forget all the other times.”

“I want you to have something good to remember.”

“Because you’re going to explain me away tomorrow, or the day after that, whenever you’ve slept off the alcohol. You’re going to leave me with a sheet for a skirt and a smile on my face. Once I’m happy, you’re free to fall to your knees on her doorstep.”

He talks over the murmurs, the ‘no, let me’s and the ‘you’ve got it wrong’s.

“You could do it. She loves you. You’ll be the happily married Hokage, and it’ll all be fine because you’ve given me closure. You’ll have shy romantic cuddles every day, and I’ll have great memories to think about every night.”

“That’s _not_ —”

“Thanks. But I don’t need them.”

Gaara is going to cry no matter what. Even now that Naruto’s hand is gone.

“I’m not trying to do this for you!”

“Did I ever say you were?”

“I don’t deserve Hinata.”

“Hinata would disagree.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

Gaara’s arms uncross. His hand hovers over his heart.

He wants to know.

“See? You’re not even trying to disagree.”

The ceiling doesn’t offer a reason.

“I can’t fix things with Hinata. I’m not trying to fix things with you.”

When Naruto sighs, it lands on Gaara’s shoulder. He’s not sure what Naruto thinks he’s doing, but it’s too close.

“But I need one more time. If you cry, it’ll kill me.”

He must be half-dead.

“Gaara.”

They both are.

“Please.”

Naruto’s voice is so close, Gaara can’t even hear himself.

**Author's Note:**

> I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I'M A COLLEGE STUDENT. Don't hate the writer, hate the required classes for her Associate degree.  
> I really only have one technical/informational note, and that's on Naruto's weight which Gaara threw out there in the angst-avoiding banter towards the beginning. First, as you may have noticed in past fics, I'm making an effort to use metric units for the sake of canonical consistency. Second, I actually don't know how much he weighs as an adult, but according to the wiki, he's about 5'11" in Naruto: The Last, which would be a year or two before the timeline I have here. So I Googled the healthy weight range for a man of that height, then picked the lowest one out of that because 1) I read a book on Japanese culture that said the BMI is generally lower over there, because of the largely rice- and other plants-based diet and 2) Naruto gets lots of physical activity as a ninja, and he's not late enough in his twenties to have filled out much, so even with all that ramen he's probably a wiry guy. I converted it to kilograms, rounded it to the nearest whole number, et voila! I'm probably overthinking this as usual, but I felt like you deserved an explanation, and as always, feel free to correct me. Also, I'm stalling so I can take a moment to gather my thoughts on the angst--both for the characters I wrote and for me as a writer.  
> Okay, so I had a plan for this, but all that really showed up of my 1 AM musing was the general arc: Hinata found out, Naruto's drunk, Gaara's panicking, there's something of an argument about sex. Originally, I planned for Gaara to be more angry than he is, but he turned out to express his frustration at the situation with more of a resigned, helpless sorta-monologue. Maybe he still can't bring himself to hurt Naruto, with words or otherwise. Or maybe I forgot all the really sharp and biting comebacks I could've had him use because I didn't take my prof's advice in keeping a notepad by my bed. That's for you to decide.  
> I wove in as many references to past fics as I could think of. If you want to cheer yourself up, maybe try counting them.  
> The title was really tough for me, because following the "mirrored" way I like to do titles in a seven-part series, I was stuck having to find another noun that starts with "ty." I cheated and decided long "ti"s would do, which left me "Tide(s)" or "Time(s)." The first option was loosely symbolic at best. I could've given you some bullshit about inevitability and tried to include water metaphors in Gaara's narration, but that would've been a stretch. I was going to go with "Time" because then I could have given you a slightly less bullshitty version of an inevitability theme, but that seemed too abstract a connection and too flimsy a syllable. I went with the plural because it /barely/ changes the main meaning, but it adds so many connections with the dialogue about "the last time" towards the end. Plus the undertone of how newspapers are often called "Something-Something Times" and they're thinking about what would happen if this became public.  
> In case you can't tell, I'm pleased with myself. Let's fix that fast.  
> I'm leaving the ending ambiguously defeatist for now. I still haven't decided if the sex is going to happen. On the one hand, if it didn't, that would be sad because it would seem like 1) Gaara's giving up on his own happiness because 2) he wants to let Naruto be happy with Hinata, but he doesn't realize that 3) Naruto can never be happy without him. But if it did, that would also be sad because 1) consent! under! emotional! pressure! isn't! and 2) it would have its own sense of finality, because if it happens, they've agreed that this is the last time with each other when 3) they're reducing their relationship to the physical, just as in Trust and Tension. I want your thoughts (and maybe your votes if I really can't decide)!  
> My final note on this work: as always, but especially now, /please/ let me know if this is crap! I haven't written any fiction of this length since school started, so I may be rusty.
> 
> I hope to have an update within the next week (I'm setting Naruto's birthday as an informal deadline), but if it takes me longer, don't be surprised. If it takes more than two weeks, get mad at me!


End file.
